The landlord sighed and looked lovingly at his cigar, then went on: "They offered that squire--Miss Ida's grandfather--a peerage; the Herons had often been offered a baronetcy; but they'd always refused, and the squire declined the peerage.

He said that no man could wish to be higher than Heron, of Herondale; that better men than he had been contented with it, and he was quite satisfied with the rank which had satisfied his forefathers.

When he died, the followers at the funeral made a procession a mile and a quarter long." "How did the family lose its money, drop its greatness ?" Stafford asked.
The landlord screwed up his eyes thoughtfully.
"Well, it's hard to tell, sir," he replied.

"Of course there was always a tremendous drain going on; for it was not only down here that the squire spent the money freely; but it was just the same or worse when he was in London; he had a big house there, and entertained as splendidly, perhaps more so, than he did at the Hall.

In those days, too, sir, there was as much gaming and betting as there is now, perhaps more--though I'm told that great folks are more given nowadays to gambling on the Stock Exchange than at cards or race-horses; begging your pardon, sir!" "I'm afraid you're right," assented Stafford, with his short laugh.